Half Baked: Lemon Squares

A confession: I don’t
particularly revere the lemon square. I actually don’t think I’d
ever even tried one until I made a batch out of curiosity after
accidentally turning “lemon squares” into an
Internet in-joke. I guess somewhere along the way I got the
impression that the lemon square was seen as a childhood delicacy
bestowed upon apple-cheeked ten-year olds who loved their
stay-at-home moms, which was why I chose it as the quote-unquote
peace offering during an era of terrible
conflict.

I’m pretty sure I needn’t tell you that I was not an
apple-cheeked ten-year-old. But it’s okay, because I’m pretty sure
most of you weren’t either. And that’s why you’re my
people.

I’ve grown to love the lemon square-and here I’ll proffer
another confession-because I get high off the praise and adoration
I get when I show up with a batch of them. Maybe that’s a really
sad thing to admit? If it is I feel certain you’ll let me know.
[Yes. Yes it is. --Ed.]

I also actually enjoy the process of making them as well,
because GOD THEY ARE SO EASY. A food processor and a bowl, and
like, six ingredients, that’s pretty much all you need. Let’s do
it.

Haul your food processor down from the top shelf. Glare it at,
knowing that you’re going to have to wash its lid by hand, which is
just so awkward and you never really feel like you’re getting it
properly clean, because you live in a lillypad of an apartment with
no dishwasher and maybe you should have made different choices so
you could be married like all your friends, living in the suburbs
with oversized, stainless steel appliances and expansive granite
countertops on which to set out all the ingredients you’ll need for
these baking jags you go on and a farmhouse kitchen table from
Pottery Barn where you can sit reading the new Barbara Kingsolver
while the base for the lemon squares cools, occasionally sipping
from a glass of wine. Then remember that you hate the suburbs and
Pottery Barn furniture, find the level of commitment marriage
requires ill-suited to your need for independence, and haven’t read
Barbara Kingsolver since high school. Wine is still good, though!
Pour yourself a glass, throw a few ice cubes in it, and thank God
that you live in New York with your weird collection of friends and
a 24-hour deli at the end of your block for those emergency rolling
paper runs at 1 a.m. Steady yourself.

Measure 2 cups of flour and a half cup of confectioners’ sugar
(we all remember
what kind that is, right class? Well done! Gold stars for
everyone!) into the bowl of your processor. Cut two sticks of
butter into small pieces and add them to the flour and sugar. Put
on the lid that caused you so much angst and lock it in place.
Pulse pulse pulse (isn’t pulsing just the greatest?! Gives me such
a thrill!) until the mixture resembles a coarse meal, which is one
of those terms you always hear in baking and are just like, “Who
what now? When in my life have I ever been in contact with a
â€˜coarse meal’ to know what such a thing looks like?” But then
somehow you actually always end up knowing exactly what coarse meal
should look like, and knowing is half the battle, and maybe it’s
not a bad idea to have a little more wine.

Turn the mixture out into a 9″x13″ pan or really whatever
similarly sized baking pan you have around the house because when
do you ever have the right sized pan and if you do have the right
sized pan I don’t want to hear about it. I hope you appreciate your
granite countertops and stainless steel appliances! How was the new
Barbara Kingsolver?

Press the mixture into the pan so that the surface is even and
bake at 350° for 20 minutes. The crust should be set and a very
light golden color.

While the crust is baking, turn your attention to the filling. I
know, you’ve been sitting here mouthing to one another, “Where’s
the lemon? Do you think she got so wound up about Barbara
Kingsolver that she forgot the lemon?”

I did not forget the lemon.

You’ll need a large bowl, into which you’ll put 4 eggs, 2 cups
of sugar and a third of a cup of lemon juice (which should be about
1 lemon, but grab two when you’re at the grocery store just to be
on the safe side. If you don’t use it for the dessert peel some of
the rind and put a twist in your wine-with-ice! [Sure! You have
already ruined the wine by putting ice in it, what difference will
a twist make? --Ed.]) and beat them all together. With what
shall you beat them, dear Liza? I mean, anything really: A handheld
mixer, a whisk, that set of antlers from Urban Outfitters you’ve
got hanging on your wall… it’s wide open! Once the eggs are beaten
and the sugar thoroughly incorporated, stir in ¼ of a cup of flour
and a half teaspoon of baking powder.

Now, you’re going to hate me for this next part because you’re
Internet people and therefore are impatient and ADD and hopefully
half drunk and here I am about to tell you that you need to WAIT.
But yes, you need to let the crust cool COMPLETELY before you pour
in the filling. Remember when I confessed that sometimes I stick
melted butter in the fridge to cool even thought among proper
bakers it’s probably anathema to do so? (You do!?! Gold stars for
everyone!) Well right. I’m an impatient and ADD Internet person
too! Who is definitely half drunk! So go on and stick that crust in
the fridge to cool off, and when it’s ready pour the filling over
the top. Back into the 350° oven for 25 minutes or until set.

Allow to cool completely (I know, sorry) before cutting into
bars. You can -and should, because hi? What’s a lemon square
without powdered sugar on top???-dust the squares with
confectioners’ sugar before serving to the teeming masses of hungry
admirers and basking in the adoration of people who, for just one
fleeting moment, will make you feel like you’re the best thing to
ever happen to them.

Jolie Kerr invites you to the very first Commenter’s Bawl at The
Scratcher on 17 June at 7 PM. There will absolutely be lemon
squares.